Properly Motivated
by kwm5000
Summary: An alternative take on the ending of the movie, if the movie were PG-13. One-shot.


**Properly Motivated**

**Author's Note: **_I saw _Kingsman: The Secret Service _this past weekend and loved it_—_all but for one thing. So this one-shot is my take on an alternative ending. Call it the PG-13 version. Dialogue and action are inspired by the film, but one viewing wasn't enough to commit it to memory, so forgive any discrepancies!_

**Disclaimer:** Kingsman: The Secret Service _is the property of Twentieth Century Fox Film corporation. It is inspired by the comic book _The Secret Service_ by Mark Miller and Dave Gibbons, published by Icon Comics._

Gary "Eggsy" Unwin leaned further back into the alcove and stoically surveyed the carnage around him. His training had steeled him to stand the bloody gore, but he still found it easier to look at the legs, and not the shoulders of the dozens of bodies missing their heads. Valentine had counted on his failsafe—his ability to detonate the chips embedded in the necks that were recently just above those shoulders—but he'd apparently never imagined that anyone could outsmart a technological genius. That anyone would be able to hack into his base's controls and commence the sequence that activated the chips. But then again, Eggsy thought with satisfaction and a growing sense of pride, he'd never imagined Kingsman either.

Not knowing if all the guards and VIPs had been taken out by chips implanted in their necks, he reminded himself to remain alert. It was vital that he reach Valentine and remove his hand from the biometric display that was allowing activation of the virus transmission. As long as the virus was transmitting to his unwitting victims through the SIM card he'd given away by the millions, promising the world free internet and free phone, millions were controlled by a visceral need to bludgeon, dismember, hack away at any other living creature nearby.

As he began to ease out of the alcove in which he had nearly spent the last minutes of his life, a feminine voice came from behind the steel door behind him: "Help me!" He slid back the cover of the small window at the door's center and found himself face to face with a beautiful blonde woman—undoubtedly one of the VIPs who hadn't gone along with Valentine's mad scheme to rid the world of humans in order to prevent global warming.

"At last!" she exclaimed. "Open the door," she commanded imperially. "I am the Princess Tilde of Sweden—do you know how long I've been trapped in here?"

"Just now I'm a bit busy," Eggsy deadpanned. "But, for a kiss, I'll come back for you when I'm done saving the world."

"Oh, I can promise much more than a kiss," she said slyly. "See anything you like?" she asked as she turned her back to him and swung her hips in a slow circle.

Eggsy might have been a Kingsman in training, but he was a red-blooded British boy first. "Your Highness, consider me properly motivated," he winked, as he headed down the hall.

Picking his way across the floors slick with blood, he ran back through the corridors he had just vacated, knowing it was up to him to take Valentine's hand from the biometric display that was affecting millions of cellphone users worldwide—his own mum among them. Recalling his message to Roxy, he thought of his mum, hoping she'd gotten the word and had barricaded his half-sister safely away from her own forthcoming violent attack.

_If I get out of this,_ _no, when I get out,_ he corrected himself. "_In private, a gentleman watches his thoughts,"_ he recalled from his training. _When__ I get out of this, I'm buying mum a cellphone,_ he vowed.

Turning the last corner, he arrived at the center of the base, where moments before Valentine's select few world leaders had partied as they watched the rest of the world beating each other, stabbing each other, gunning down each other—from Rio de Janeiro to London to New York—anywhere there were crowds, no one was safe. Each group had at least a handful of those who were desperate or greedy enough for a lifetime of free calls to wait hours in line for one of Valentine's SIM cards. And, with the virus' range of hundreds of yards, only one was needed, Eggsy thought grimly.

Now, the leaders' bodies lay strewn about the floor. The disco ball still spun lazily over the well-dressed corpses. A brief flash as her prosthetic blades caught the light from the twirling ball was the only notice Eggsy had as Gazelle launched through the air. He pivoted and leaned backwards and to the side, causing her to just skim over his chest. He came up with the severed end of his Drake's regimental tie in his hand, the silk not immune to the razor edges of Gazelle's blades.

The day that tie was selected for him at Kingsman came back to him, as did his cocky remark, "I suppose the ties are dipped in poison?"

"No, that would cause the silk to run," Harry "Galahad" Hart remarked mildly. "A tie has no functional use. It is purely decorative."

As he dodged another attack, he thought wryly of the umbrella he was given at the same time as the tie. It was as decorative as his tie, now reduced to frayed remains, had been. Far from lacking a useful function, however, it was his shield and weapon all in one, and he would have given a lot to have it by his side now. Running up a railing, he grabbed the support column and propelled himself in a wide arc around the deadly raven-haired woman, at the last scissoring her around the waist with his legs and keeping her own out of reach.

She twisted away, only to rocket again toward him. This time he launched toward her as well, catching a glimpse as he did of the plasma screens displaying the world maps slowly turning red as country by country came on line as Valentine's virus accessed cellphones."

Calling on his gymnastic training, he turned mid-air as his aerial maneuver brought him nearer and nearer to the killer. "_Do your very best impression of a German aristocrat's formal greeting_," echoed in his mind as he recalled Galahad standing in his "oxfords, no brogues" in the Kingsman shop and clicking his heels. Doing the same, Eggsy slid by the woman who was indefatigable in her defense of Valentine.

"Gazelle, aren't you done with him yet?" Valentine querulously asked, keeping his hand on the biometric display. "Once I'm done cleaning up the mess that man has made on this planet, I want some champagne, and you know I can't properly enjoy myself with that mess everywhere. Do you have enough blankets?

Momentarily distracted by the madman's tirade, Eggsy had taken his eyes from Gazelle but rapidly scanned the room looking for her. There she stood, not 10 feet away but, oddly, not moving. He followed her eyes down to the small cut near her elbow. The cut surrounded by flesh that was rapidly turning green. "_Of course the blade is coated with a toxin,_" he recalled Galahad explaining after he demonstrated how to re-seat the blade that had emerged from the end of the polished shoes after he had clicked his heels together. As the green tinge crept up to her neck, she wobbled once and then fell, with the titanium blades clattering on the floor as she struck it.

Turning toward the window overlooking the chaotic scene, Valentine observed the fall of his faithful aide and grumpily muttered, "I have to do everything around here. I don't know how I'm going to clean up that mess by myself. Just the _thought_ of all that blood is making me feel . . . urghh." He turned away, barely keeping down his favorite Scottish feast he'd brought in for his guests as a victory celebration. "I know," he continued. "I'll get that blond princess from Sweden to do it. Just another two ticks and they'll all be online and _then_ I can finally relax."

Eggsy reached down to the dead assassin and wrenched one of her prosthetics free from the attachment just above where her knee once had been. That was before Valentine had severed it and its partner to make his perfect human weapon. Taking a running start, Eggsy threw the leg like a javelin, launching it high into the air towards the window where Valentine stood as his plot to wipe the world clean of its human vermin drew closer and closer to completion.

The prosthesis hurtled toward the viewing area, and even the reinforced glass Valentine had installed was no match for the hundreds of pounds of force concentrated in the spiked tip. As it contacted the glass, the window exploded. So great was the force with which Eggsy had propelled the prosthesis, that the blade continued its deadly trip, impaling Valentine, who now stood with his back towards the biometric table. He paused for a moment, looked down in confusion at the blade protruding from his chest, and then stumbled backward through the now-empty window. He spun gracefully through the air, landing on his back with a thud that threatened to speed the rest of the air rushing out of his body from his pierced lung.

Eggsy gazed down at the dying megalomaniacal villain, watching Valentine's eyes cloud over and his unmarked neck tilt to the side in a final nod of acknowledgment of Kingsman's superiority over his technology and his plot to wipe the world clean of its infestation.

"That's it, then," said Merlin through Eggsy's earpiece with a sigh. "The plane is prepared for departure. Back to London to see what's left of it."

But Eggsy reached for a bottle of champagne and a pair of glasses and headed away from the past toward his very promising future. "Eggsy, we have champagne in the plane," Merlin spoke into his ear.

"Perhaps," Eggsy said, "but you don't have a soon-to-be very grateful Swedish princess. Be a good lad and find me the code for cell 8B, would you? I won't be long," he added with a glint in his eye.

He moved smoothly towards the exit to the room, already seeing in his mind the voluptuous Swede's . . ._assets_ . . . displayed for his viewing pleasure. As he spun smartly around the corner, he caught the glimpse of a polished oxford jutting from under a pile of guards' bodies. The shoe suddenly brought him up short, as he recalled those same shoes on Galahad's feet and stared down at his own image reflected in the polished surface. He recalled his final session with his mentor—just before the unfortunate incident with his dog.

"I know all about how to treat a bird," Eggsy scoffed as Galahad explained that the day's lesson was to cover how a gentleman treated a lady. "I am quite _handy_ with all my little darlings," he added with a smirk. "As _you_ are a gentleman, they are not _birds_ or _darlings_, but _ladies,_" Galahad explained with the merest hint of a frown. "And," he added, cutting off the complaint he knew was about to come from Eggsy, he said, "the mark of a gentleman is how he treats others, especially ladies."

Eggsy stood stock still. He released the breath he had been holding. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled again, strongly. "Even if they look like supermodels?" he asked out loud. As though Galahad were by his shoulder rather than 6 feet under British soil, he heard "_Yes, even then."_

Sighing a final time, he gently set the bottle and glasses down on the table nearest the entrance to the cavernous center of the base. And, setting his shoulders and unlacing the remains of his tattered tie, he removed a gardenia from the lush bouquet on the table. Moving out of the room at last, he asked Merlin, "Have you got that code for me yet?"

"Yes, it's 35-25," Merlin remarked. "But what. . .?"

"I have some unfinished business," Eggsy replied, with only a touch of regret in his voice. "As I said, I won't be long." Arriving at the cell at last, he knocked on the door and awaited a reply from within.

"Have you finished saving the world, then?" she asked saucily. "I just knew that the proper motivation would help you give the extra effort."

"May I come in, then?" he asked.

"You must!" she cried. "I've been waiting for your return."

Entering the code, he watched the door slide to the side and stepped into the well-appointed room, with a large bed centered at the back wall. Indeed, the princess showed every intention of following through on her promise and making a young Englishman's fantasies come true. But, he sat on the bed, covered her with the sheet and gently pulled her to a seated position.

"Your Highness," he began, "let me thank _you_ for your undeniably attractive offer." He gently touched his lips to hers, then pulled her closer as he deepened the kiss. Just as she opened to him, however, he pulled back.

"You are a most attractive woman," he said. "If my mates could see me now, they'd know I'd gone barmy. But, regretfully, I cannot accept. I was once told by someone I greatly respect, 'Manners maketh man.' What sort of man would I be if I were to take these advantages?" He stood and looked at her tousled blond hair and reddened lips and allowed himself a small shake of the head.

"Why, I'm sure you'd be a perfect gentleman," she purred, beginning to lower the sheet again.

Crossing to her quickly, Eggsy held the sheet in place with one hand and handed her the gardenia with the other. He moved toward the door and said with a smile, "I regret that I have not always been a gentleman." And, bowing slightly, retreated silently through the open door. _But,_ he silently vowed, _I will always be a Kingsman._

**A/N 2: **_First publish, so please read and review!_


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